Changes
by rabbitsix
Summary: Haruhi understands the balance, delicate as it may be. TamakiKyouya and what exists between.


**A/N: **Hullo... Rabbit again. :3 I thought I was going to take a break from Ouran, but what can you do. I am a slave to this pairing. Much thanks to LMC for beta-ing... and if you haven't yet, check out the ouranhostclub community on livejournal. :D Guess my sn there.

Enjoy. :)

* * *

Tamaki is selfish, and nobody knows. 

Tamaki takes and takes from everyone around him, and what he gives is only half as much as what he receives.

For every young woman who swoons in his embrace, Tamaki has tangible proof that he can be loved.

For every sweet face tilted heavenwards to meet his eyes, Tamaki has inarguable evidence that he would be missed.

All he has to do is smile and look sincere; cast a sapphire gaze in the right direction and his work is done. But Tamaki cannot give without taking. He cannot help the quiet,  
childlike fingers that reach inside to scoop out fluttering hearts, turning them over in his hands and peeling off thin layers before returning them to blissfully ignorant chests. He waits to hear the steady beating, and then he excuses himself to his next client, covered in the layers of all who have come before her.

No one else notices, but if you watched close enough you'd be able to tell who Tamaki's older clients are; the longer they've been coming to him, the more desperately they cling to those thieving hands and deceitful arms. He has something that belongs to them,  
but all they know is that they need Tamaki's love more than everyone else; each girl believing she deserves it the most.

Unlike the clients who frequent the services of the other hosts, the girls who request Tamaki always request him alone. You will never find a group of students around the king, like the squealing fangirls supporting brotherly love or the ambiguous relationship between master and servant. Tamaki's clients could not be happy for him if he began to openly dote on Haruhi, or if he publicly expounded upon the nature of the host club Mom and Dad.

They want him to themselves, and Tamaki is only too eager to please.

After all, he needs this much more than they do.

* * *

Kyouya is concerned, and nobody knows. 

He watches Tamaki engage each lovely girl in conversation that fades to a soft murmur of 'you, you, only you,' knowing that the underlying message is 'me, me, only me.' Both client and host are selfish, but the girls aren't making any claims to the contrary.

Tamaki's image is a paragon of generosity.

Kyouya knows that Tamaki wants this to be true. Tamaki thinks that as long as no one is hurt by his selfishness, he is doing some good.

He is only half-right. The girls are happy, but Tamaki simply buries his hurt. Beneath flamboyant gesturing and indulgences of a decidedly quixotic nature, Tamaki is small and he can be hurt.

It is getting harder, to look at his friend and see nothing but layers. Only when the third music room is empty of everyone but the hosts -weary but content to discuss the next day's theme- can Kyouya draw Tamaki away to a quieter corner and begin to peel off those damnable layers.

One by one, with firm but gentle pressure, until Tamaki falls forward with a sigh of relief and a slight hitch of breath. Kyouya knows that Tamaki doesn't even realise what he's doing, that he doesn't recognise the heart he holds in his hands.

Kyouya will let him collect new layers tomorrow, and all the days after that, because he knows that Tamaki needs to feel loved. The familial affection he misses from his mother;  
the unconditional acceptance he will never be able to earn from his grandmother... the singular attentions of a cross-dressing scholarship student who touches him in a place that Kyouya cannot.

Haruhi doesn't need to peel off the layers- she can see right through them.

But Kyouya is a little bit selfish, too, and he cannot help but be glad the latest addition to their family will never use her powers to usurp his own position as a necessity in Tamaki's life.

After all, he needs this much more than she does.

* * *

Haruhi knows when nobody else understands. 

When her clients are too distracted to notice their host's divided attention, she watches dark eyes as they flash behind glasses and seek out a bluer gaze. She sees the glances that pass between them, hears the 'us, us, only us' that manifests itself in worry and greed.

Even now, it is apparent to anyone who knows what they're looking for.

Tanaka-san has just excused herself from Tamaki's company, so overcome with emotion that she can't decide whether to smile or cry and ends up doing both as she rushes out the door. Caught between customers, Tamaki looks lost.

His next appointment steps up, ready and willing to fill an earlier slot. For a split-second,  
the equilibrium in the third music room is just slightly askew.

Haruhi couldn't tell you exactly what happened, but one moment Nakamaru-san was approaching Tamaki, and then somehow she was walking in the other direction, skillfully diverted by a twin at each elbow. The uncertainty is gone, replaced by a more comfortable pattern as Kyouya smoothly excuses himself from his own table and crosses the room in easy strides.

Haruhi, who had been busily demonstrating the difficult and fascinating process of making instant coffee, recognises where she is needed and brings a tray to the table Kyouya has just vacated. There is a balance in the host club, and though she is wary to admit it,  
Haruhi is now a part of the erratic ebb and flow.

Voices rise and fall, punctuated by longing sighs and gleeful gasps. Seated across from each other,  
king and vice-president are content to watch and let time move around them.

Mori glances at the grandfather clock and meets Kyouya's eyes while Honey picks up a slice of cake he hadn't planned on eating.

Hikaru looks at Mori, and grasps Kaoru's chin as Tamaki appears at Nakamaru-san's chair like a prince whisking away the damsel in distress.

No one notices Kyouya exit the room. He will return in three minutes time, and no one will notice this, either. The girls will simply look up from their tea to find him seated amongst them once more, as if he had been present the entire time. It is so well coordinated as to be almost painful.

Haruhi knows, because Haruhi doesn't try to understand. This is just the way things are,  
and soon they will realise and something will change.

They need each other, and only Haruhi knows.

Someday, something will change.


End file.
